(121-02-15) Polite Dinner Conversation
Polite Dinner Conversation
Summary: Apparently, the Tyrells aren't sure what that is.
Date: 15/02/2014
Related: Freeriders and Tirocinium: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-02-14-freeriders-and-tirocinium and Lord Pansy Challenged: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-02-15-lord-pansy-challenged

Grand Hall, Garden Isle Manse

The grand hall has been prepared for a formal feast. The long, wide dining table has been separated and split into a narrower U-shaped arrangement, with the massive chair in the middle what becomes the head table. Smaller chairs are at either side, and long benches rest along the two branches of the lower tables.

Food and drink are available in abundance. Seven courses have been planned, most of them seafood in keeping with the Dolphin Festival. Arbor wines and Highgarden meads flow like water from a fountain. Pages and serving maids move efficiently throughout the hall, making sure guests want for nothing.

The far end of the room, opposite the head table, has a small, raised platform, where musicians play to entertain guests during each course. During the flurry of activity between courses, a motley-clad jester tumbles and jokes before this platform.

Garvin sits at the head table, in the enormous chair with roses, with his cousin Laurent at his right. The places to his left are for his other cousins, Katya, Keyte, and Kesha. To the right of Laurent, a place awaits for Lady Angharad, along with Garvin's sisters, Alaura and Janei, neither of whom are present. Other Tyrells, bannermen, and guests are at the lower tables. Pipers, harpers, and drummers are playing an entertaining tune, as everyone awaits the first course to be served. There's already bread, butter, water, wine, and mead on the tables.

Laurent slouches next to Garvin in a high-backed chair, dressed much less martially than is his standard. A pair of form-fitting black trousers are worn tucked into high boots of black leather, polished to a mirror sheen. His baldric matches the boots, as do the gloves tucked into it. His shirt is golden silk, worn under a thick velvet doublet of emerald green. Rather than his personal arms, he has opted to present the Tyrell arms this night. His unruly hair is hidden beneath a hat in a similar fashion to those Garvin prefers, if somewhat smaller. The black hat is given a splash of color by a large feather, dyed bright green. His dark eyes scan the crowd sourly, though he's somewhat more enthusiastic when it comes to the half-empty goblet in his hand.

Katya occupies the seat immediately to Garvin's left, resplendent in silver and green, dark hair intricately braided around her crown, other narrow braids bedecked with silver hidden through the tumble about her shoulders. She has a cup of wine in hand already and is leaned towards her younger sisters as they watch guests and courses arrive.

Lady Keyte has dressed up for the occasion, of course. One of her more fashion-forward choices, her spine on show under the jut of a stiff-shouldered gown in Tyrell green. Her waterfall-braided hair is crowned with a circlet of fresh blooms, roses pilfered from the garden — Laurent might recognise them. Seated on the outer end of the sisters three, she leans in to wonder of her twin in a harsh whisper, "Is the Lady of Locke late?" Katya will likely overhear it.

Jhav enters in through the main-doors, entering into the main hall with his two ring-tailed lemur upon his shoulders, which are looking around curiously whilst eating some a small slice of an apple, tails swaying back and forth passively. He's wearing his usual attire, a dark purple tunic, feather belt, and the sort, not looking to be wanting to look too extravagant for the event. He is also holding a flute within his right hand along with two small pouches in his left.

Garvin is in a rather loose-fitting double of deep green velvet tonight, and he wears a short mantle on his shoulders, trimmed in sable. As the first course is brought out, he pushes himself to his feet, wincing a little in pain. The musicians notice and immediately stop, as Garvin raises his goblet. "Family, friends, I welcome you to Garden Isle. It fills my heart with joy to see so many of you here tonight for this feast in honor of the Dolphin Festival. So without further ado, let us all raise our goblets to the sacred dolphins. So long as they return to the Whispering Sound each year, the Hightower and Oldtown shall endure. To the dolphins!"

Kesha certainly overhears it, seated to the other side of Keyte as she is. "Hopefully nothing has happened to her," she whispers all hush-hush like to her twin sister, as though someone being a little tardy means the worst possible outcome need be addressed. (It probably does not). The pink flowers braided into her hair are golden, enameled pins as opposed to real flowers, a motif that extends down her her dress in a way that is very pretty, but also highly expect from a Tyrell Lady. Then again, what else would one wear to a feast thrown by the same name?

"The dolphins." It's more of a growl, really, than a cheer that comes from Laurent. But he does raise his glass dutifully, and the wine goes down easily enough. His empty goblet touches down onto the table heavily, with enough of a report to draw the attention of a page who rushses in with a refill. The wine is forgotten for a moment, though, as the first course is laid out before him. The boor actually goes so far as to lick his lips as he appraises it, before taking up his knife.

Kesha certainly overhears it, seated to the other side of Keyte as she is. "Hopefully nothing has happened to her," she whispers all hush-hush like to her twin sister, as though someone being a little tardy means the worst possible outcome need be addressed. (It probably does not). The pink flowers braided into her hair are golden, enameled pins as opposed to real flowers, a motif that extends down her her dress in a way that is very pretty, but also highly expect from a Tyrell Lady. Then again, what else would one wear to a feast thrown by the same name? She looks to the head of the table again as Garvin stands, following his speech with a raise of her goblet with a delicate gesture. "To the dolphins," she says, looking at Keyte with what is probably an obnoxious smile to her twin.

"I am sure Lady Angharad is just fine," Katya says aside to her sisters, "Lord Laurent is too solicitous of her to allow any harm to come. But—" Whatever she was about to say is forestalled by Garvin's rise and toast, which she watches in polite silence until the time comes to lift her goblet and join in the toast. She drinks more enthusiastically than she speaks, and then turns back to the twins, sitting back in her chair as the first course is served.

Jhav doesn't necessarily have a goblin of his own to raise, but his lemurs take no time in raising their partially eaten apple slices and letting out little noises of their own before going back to eating, occasionally glancing to guests, bannermen, and the sort as they munch down whilst resting upon his shoulders.

"Oh, I do hope nothing happened, yes," Keyte agrees, blinking wide with faux-shock. Gracious, wouldn't that be just horrid! She smiles behind her hand for Katya's comment, hiding dimples that are plain to see when she reaches for her goblet to toast. "To the dolphins!" She glances around for someone to aside her bite-story to, but absent ears who've not heard it a thousand times before, she simply sighs and sips daintily. Bother.

Garvin drains his goblet and slowly lowers himself into the chair, again flinching at the pain, his left hand going to his abdomen. He eyes the first course, giving a brief nod, then looks out over the gathering again. "Oh, he's here!" he says, eyes brightening as they see Jhav. He leans a little closer to Katya. "That is the man at Lady She-Bear's fete the other night, and his tiny little squirrel-men. They're exotic, don't you think? I'm so glad he was available."

"Oh, of course," Kesha says airily, like she wasn't the person to bring up dreaded happenings in the first place. But if Katya will kill any theorizing about that…She instead she gestures towards the lemurs after staring at them a moment and tells Keyte, "Do not get bitten by one of those too, sister." Poor Keyte. No one new to tell her dolphin story too and getting teased about it.

The first course seems to meet with Laurent's approval. Barely a word is said as he tucks into it to knights or bannermen who walk past, and what he does say is mouthed around a half-eaten bite of food. Nor does he have an eye for the entertainment, at the moment. It's food and wine for Laurent, for now, the rest of the fete forgotten.

"Perhaps they've had a falling out," Katya theorizes in an undertone, clearly just to get her sisters going and not because she thinks it's very likely. "Who could tell, Ser Laurent looks thunderous on his best day." She straightens up to have her wine refilled, and follows Garvin's gesture towards the entertainer. "Squirrel-men? How strange, I don't believe I've ever seen such a thing. Do they do tricks?"

Keyte scoffs into her goblet, thankfully not choking on her mouthful. Wouldn't that be a sight! "Of course not," she retorts archly to her twin. "Only the lucky creatures bite me." Katya's suggestion is met with an interested glance. "Well, I never." Deferring to Kesha to theorize along those lines, she leans forward briefly to enquire of Garvin, "Are you alright, sweet cous? Your injuries are not too grievous?"

Garvin sits at the head table, in the enormous chair with roses, with his cousin Laurent at his right. The places to his left are for his other cousins, Katya, Keyte, and Kesha. To the right of Laurent, a place awaits for Lady Angharad, along with Garvin's sisters, Alaura and Janei, neither of whom are present. Other Tyrells, bannermen, and guests are at the lower tables. Pipers, harpers, and drummers are playing an entertaining tune, as the first course is being carried out by pages.

Garvin nods to Katya, eyes alight. "One of them attacked me," he says excitedly, sounding almost as thrilled at Keyte and her dolphin bite. "It was truly terrifying. Climbed right up from my feet to my shoulder, then began striking my face, just like a tiny, hairy warrior. Why, if Eonn had not been there, I've no doubt I'd be dead today." He leans forward, looking over to Keyte, he winces a little, but gives her a smile. "All properly stitched and leeched," he says, raising his goblet again. "I've no doubt I shall live at least another thirty years."

Laurent's mouth closes on the last bit, and there's a bit of chewing and swallowing, followed by a soft (but gross) sound as he tries to suck something out of his teeth. When that doesn't work, it's his fingers, but only for a moment before he moves on to a knife. Thankfully it doesn't take much longer at that point.

The lemurs upon Jhavas shoulder finish their apple slices and look around quickly in a curious and somewhat excited manner. One of the lemurs tails comes around and tickles the others nose, prompting it to let out a quiet sneeze. The lemur which had sneezed looks to the other before jumping up and onto the other lemur, letting out a sort of high pitched growl as the two drop off Jhava and onto the floor, proceeding to begin playfully chasing one another around, but not to the point they're necessarily getting in the way of anyone or anything.

Jhava lets out a quiet chuckle before clicking his tongue along the roof of his mouth, calling to the Lemurs. The lemurs stop chasing one another and look over before running off and jumping up onto his legs, climbing up his trousers and tunic before back up to his shoulders, looking to the mans face. He begins muttering to them in summer tongue as they listen, and it's not long until they both launch off Jhav's shoulders and are rushing over towards Garvin, and while they may look passive to some there's no doubt they look like crazed beasts to others.

"Then surely you are safe from ever being bitten," Kesha replies to her sister's claims of lucky bites with a brief roll of her eyes. Lucky creatures, pft. "I cannot imagine why such a thing would happen," she says dryly with a slightly pained look as Laurent tries to suck something out of his teeth. He's lucky there's something even more concerning in the room than his manners, as the lemurs dropping to the ground and chasing each other around prompt a, "Are they always like that?"

Visenya appears at the door, followed by one guard. No doubt heads turn and people murmur in wonder at the newly appeared Lady. It may be that she is no noticeably a Targaryen; her milky white skin, glittery amethyst eyes, and silvery pale hair are a testament to the Blood of the Dragon that runs in this maiden's veins. It may be her outfit. The lady wears an underdress of expensive myrish lace dyed blood red, and over this a black high-collared brocade gown with a train that glitters red with rubies set into whirling patterns on the train and collar. A necklace of rubies and black diamonds glitters on her chest, and red ruby pins stud her elaborate hairstyle.

She will walk between the tables, her train dragging across the floor, and drop into a low curtsey in front of the table. "Lord Garvin. I apologize for my lateness."

Lemurs rushing the head table? That catches Laurent's eye. Or maybe it's the chittering. Something about the beastly little things draws his attention, and… Are they charging toward Garvin? His eyes narrow, fingers close around the handle of the large, sharp knife he was just using on Course Number One. Would he truly stab something so cute?!

Garvin watches the lemur's antics with a grin, sitting back in the gigantic chair and sipping his wine. "Look at them," he says to no one and everyone at once. "They're just like little people, don't you think? Only much smaller and hairier." He pauses a moment. "Well, perhaps not hairier than some of those from the North." Before he can say anything more, however, the creatures are launching themselves toward his table, and Garvin's eyes bug wide.

"Warrior preserve us," Katya replies to Garvin, tone dry but not mocking, brows arching as she eyes the creatures. Not with fear so much as consternation, maybe a little skepticism. She watches them charge across the floor, saying, "They must have a taste for your flesh, cous, here they come again. I hope Ser Laurent will save you this time, I should like to see him fight them. Wouldn't that be a sight?"

Igdahn is present, but seated out of the way with a small delegation from house Tully and their various bannerfolk, such as are present in the city and game for the celebration. She's dressed in a rather plain gown, of fabric fine enough but unadorned, in her favored poppet cut and a fresh pink hue. Hair kept up and braided is covered in a demurely sculpted white lace headpiece inset with symmetrical cushions of pink silk. A bit of ruffled veiling of wide-woven lace covers her eyes and nose, leaving her chin and jawline in view. She can surely see from behind the lace, as she sits up straight on the arrival of her cousin, which she notes, but doesn't call out to her among the crowd. It would be unseemly, after all.

The lemurs dart under the table and swiftly climb up Garvins chair, they're fast, really fast, and before you know it they're upon his shoulders, letting out two quiet, cute little yawns as they rest down, eyes still open as they lazily look around. The lemur that had earlier 'beat' Garvin is again, patting him upon the cheek, gently and soothingly. The other lemur is chittering and chattering to him calmly, while looking over to Laurent, raising its left hand it a form of wave, seemingly.

Speaking of, Keyte spots Igdannha amongst the Tullys, and wriggles her fingers in a little wave that may or may not be noticed by the prim Targaryen. She wrinkles her nose, rather certain that the unmannerly noises at the head table are none other than Laurent's fault without needing to look to confirm it. "I had hoped the Lady Locke might be here to needle him into some semblance of seemly. — Oh! My, are they… oh! Ah!" The lemurs have caused quite a stir with this Tyrell.

Garvin is frozen as a statue, just as he was the other night. His wide eyes dart left and right, looking at each lemur in turn, as his mouth opens and closes soundlessly for a long moment. Finally, he manages to find his voice to say in weak, shaky manner, "L-lady Visenya, how g-good of you to come. I'm certain S-ser Laurent will be happy to g-give you his place beside me…if you're not afraid of s-squirrel-men."

Laurent lurches forward in his chair, knife held in his right hand while his left raises, the beginning of a snatch for one of the lemurs. But they're much gentler than he expected, and that sees him settling back into his chair. It doesn't save the little critters from a scowl, though, which becomes positively menacing when one waves at him. Still, his fingers relax around the handle of the knife, allowing the untensil (nearly turned weapon) to lie.

"Not like any people I know," Kesha states firmly of the 'people like' lemurs, turning a look at Garvin that says 'What kind of unseemly people are you hanging around with?' Her eyes go a little wide as the lemurs dash under he table and climb.

Katya's brows rise as the lemurs perch on Garvin and make themselves at home, leaning away only to get a better view of the furry tableau. She sips her wine and glances back at her sisters. "Well," she says, and then seems at a bit of a loss to follow it up. Well. "This is unexpected."

Visenya eyes the table for a brief moment before offering a little smile, "No, of course I am not. However, I would not want to interrupt Ser Laurent's meal." She glances to the boorish Tyrell before offering him a widening smile.

Keyte has worked herself up to coughing, hand flitting from her mouth to her chest and back. "Oh, my," she chokes out. "What… what are they doing?"

The little lemur that had earlier been 'viciously beating' on Garvin looks over to Katya before.. Offering a hug? Well, that's what it seems like as it holds itself in place with its feet upon Garvins clothes and opening its arms wide towards her. The other lemur is much more curious with Laurent, after the wave it leans forward off of Garvin, sniffing at it, not really afraid of the large man, whether that be a good thing or a bad thing is really a matter of opinion.

Jhav approaches the main table somewhat casually, lightly chuckling, "You needn't worry, lord Tyrell, they are very much harmless," He says, "The one that was patting you likes you very much, that one is Caspyre, the one that is taking taking a liking to your cousin, Laurent Tyrell, is Jaspyre."

Kesha pats her twin's back as she coughs. There, there. Don't choke and die or anything. "That looks like a trap," she observes of the lemur that appears to be reaching for Katya, supposedly for a hug.

"Oh, Gods, no," Laurent says, waving at his empty plate as he pushes back from the table. "Please." He pushes himself to his feet, eyeing the lemurs warily, before stepping away from the chair, which he leaves pushed slightly back from the table. His dark eyes cast about for a likely new seat before he realizes what he's done, and turns back to sketch a bow to the Lady Visenya. "Mind the squirrel-men," he warns her before reaching back to take up the full goblet of wine he nearly left behind.

Igdahn follows her cousin's arrival at the head table, and from there sees her new friend Keyte waving to her. She returns the gesture in a meek, genteel gesture, by no means waving a hand about. But what are those creatures misbehaving over there? At least they're not coming over here. They look fairly terrifying.

"C-caspyre," Garvin stammers, forcing a smile as he looks to Jhav. "And Jaspyre, is it? Very clever names. Do they eat…p-people?" Meanwhile, a page is offering to show Visenya to Laurent's chair, though he's wary of the squirrel-men.

One of the guards at the door clears his throat and turns to the room, announcing, "Lady Angharad Locke, ladies and lords." Upon which enters the very same. "Good evening, everyone. I'm so sorry I'm — " she stops in her tracks, blinking rapidly at the lemurs. "Are those monkeys?" She turns and looks for Laurent, asking him, "Why are there monkeys on Lord Garvin?"

"It looks hungry," warns Keyte, hot on the heels of her sister's remark about lemur-traps. She spares a very grateful look to her sister for the back-patting. "Watch your plate, Katya," and your face.

"Why, of course not." Says Jhav, lightly chuckling at the question though not in any rude manner, "They are lemurs, the only meats they eat are cooked ones. But they also eat some sea-food, but they very much like fruits." he adds, as the lemur that was earlier sniffing at Laurent leans back into Garvin, snuggling up against him gently, its tail coming around to the back of his neck, swaying up and down in a most likely ticklish manner.

Katya does not hug the lemur. She watches it as it turns her way, and then at her sisters' suggestion draws her plate somewhat further out of the creature's reach. "Strange little things," she calls them, before she's peering around Garvin at Laurent. "Come, cousin Thorn," she calls, "Surely you're not fleeing before these beasts?"

"Because we are apparently being attacked," Kesha answers the Lady Angharad Locke, despite the question not being addressed to her. At least, attacked is what it looks like, with all the stammering and leaning and escaping the table.

"Ah," says Angharad, still looking nonplussed by the busy-tailed animals' presence. "I… don't see any reason to flee them. Provided we all have tableware in reach." Forking lemurs.

Visenya allows the page to lead her to Ser Laurent's vacated spot, and moves her skirts to sit down in a dignified fashion. She picks up a piece of bread from the plate Laurent has left, and holds it between two fingers in a gingerly fashion, afraid of dropping gravy on her gown. She holds out the scrap to the nearest lemur with a measure of confidence.

"Because we've started a menagerie?" Laurent answers Angharad's question with a question, stepping one seat further down to pull out a chair for his betrothed. And then he's falling into the one next to it, originally intended for Alaura. Louder then, calling out to Katya, he answers, "Fleeing before the Lady Targaryen." Does that come off as rude? Likely it was simply thoughtless.

When the lemur is offered the piece of bread it gently reachs out with both hands

Garvin lets out a small whimper, still moving nothing but his eyes, which continue to dart back and forth between the two lemurs. He shivers suddenly when one begins to tickle his neck, his forced smile faltering just a bit. "W-wouldn't they be more comfortable s-somewhere…else?" A quick-thinking maid enters with a plate of sliced fruits, holding it near the floor at the end of the high table.

Angharad doesn't sit immediately, glancing about the disrupted, then puts a hand over her mouth to stifle a sudden giggle. "I'll never be bored in this family, will I?" Then, dropping a curtsy to the lady so clearly displaying the blood of the dragon — and resemblance to her twin — "Lady Visenya Targaryen, I presume?"

"Poor cous," murmurs Keyte, mostly to Kesha. "Only yesterday he were attacked by a bear, and now lemurs. Perhaps he ought to go visit the dolphins, for to be bitten." In need of some luck, Garvin? Her eyes flit to the Lady Targaryen newly seated at their table, watching in horror as she reaches out to the creatures.

When the lemur is offered the piece of bread it gently reachs out with both hands and takes the hold of the piece of bread, slowly bringing it back and sniffing it before beginning to eat. The other lemur that had offered to hug to Katya lets out a low form of a groan as it continues to reach out for her, but not before it notices the the plate of sliced fruits. It yawns before climbing down and onto the floor, walking over to the plate and sniffing at the fruits, sneaking one, sniffing at it again before seemingly offering for the maid to take it with its right hand, sneaking another piece of fruit with its left hand for itself.

"They are quite fond of you, my lord. It isn't necessarily about being comfortable, they just like being near you, but then again they like being near anyone. Ring-tailed lemurs are quite social animals." Says Jhava, raising his right brow slightly as he shifts his weight over to his right leg.

Anharad's head pops up from being bowed in curtsy. She squints at Keyte and mouths, Bear? with an almost pitifully puzzled expression. Uncertain whether the urge to laugh again is appropriate, she clears her throat and returns her attention to introductions.

"Entertained, frustrated, angry, glad — often drunk," Laurent lists off, raising his glass to punctuate the last, "But never bored, My Lady." He nods at Angharad, then looks past her to nod similarly to his cousins, before taking a healty drink of Arbor gold.

"I do not understand the fear." Visenya remarks as the lemur reaches out to take the bread. "They are like upright little kittens without claws." Then Angharad addresses her, and she rises smoothly from her chair to return the curtsey, albeit hers is much more shallow, "I am afraid you have an advantage over me. I do not know your name."

Garvin stiffens suddenly when one of the lemurs climbs back down his frozen body, then relaxes a hair. "They l-like me?" he asks uncertainly, eyes moving to see Visenya actually offering food to the other creature. "Perhaps it is the fragrance I use in my hair. Lavender, do they like lavender?" The maid lets out a squeak, dropping the platter and scurrying back from the critter, while the other maids in the kitchen doorway giggle.

"Perhaps he should avoid any life of the wild variety entirely," Kesha murmurs in return to Keyte with a shake of her head. "Lest he be dragged out to sea instead."

Keyte sketches the tiniest of nods to Angarhad down the table, mouthing back: lay-dee mor-mont. It were a very scandalous thing, if the grave look on her face is anything to go by. "Oh, clever thinking," says she to Kesha, laying a hand on her sister's shoulder as she praises, before finally paying some attention to her food. Not without a good amount of side-eyeing the lemurs, mind.

Angharad looks up as she's acknowledged and rises, smiling at the lady Targaryen. "I'm Angharad, Laurent's betrothed. It's so lovely to meet you, lady — I've heard so much about you from Garvin and your lord brother."

Laurent rises as well, a touch late, his words coming just after Angharad's. "The Lady Angharad Locke, my… Yes." He nods toward his lady then, his mouth drawn into a grim line that, on the Thorn, might as well be a beaming smile.

Jhava gives a nod to Garvin, "That is the truth, but they aren't too drawn by smells." he says as the lemur upon Garvins shoulder finishes the small piece of bread and extends its hands out to Visenya, as if wanting over. The other lemur hops back in a surprised manner, droping the fruits as the platter is dropped, but quickly walks back and picks up the fruits, placing one bad on the platter as it sits down, eating the piece of fruit in a casual manner

"Y-yes, your lord brother," Garvin stutters to Visenya. "When n-next you see him, please let him know I sh-shall be ready to meet his challenge in a few days. The maester was here this afternoon and said I w-was healing nicely. I'm certain I shall be w-well enough after court on M-Monday for him to kill me."

Agnharad stares at Garvin, then turns and stares at Laurent. She is critically out of the loop and someone's going to answer for it. "How is it your cousin gets mauled by a bear and his bosom friend wants to murder him and I don't know anything about it?" Gods bless! She reaches for a goblet of wine and takes a healthy drink of her own.

"Hopefully only good things from the two of them?" Visenya smiles gently at this, and motions to the empty chair that was meant for Angharad anyways. "Will you sit with me?" She turns her head to regard Garvin before shaking her head, "Kill you? I do not know why Daevon labeled you dishonorable, My Lord. But, he will not kill you. He has resolved to apologize to you, although." She offers Garvin a gentle smile as she says, "My brother does not act flippantly. Perhaps it should be a mutual apology? You will someday be brothers."

Visenya picks up another piece of bread from the plate, and offers it to the lemur as she speaks.

"He did what?" Katya turns from conversation with Keyte to lift brows at Garvin and across at Angharad who seems to share her surprise. "Ser Daevon challenged you? What in the Seven's name for?" A pause, and then a finger lifts, "Should I even ask?" In polite company?

"Naturally," Kesha says with a nod of her head, trying to look wise as Keyte lays a hand on her shoulder. "Particularly if he will go on stuttering like that." The latter is murmured as she pokes at her food, since at least the lemurs seem to be staying at the other end of the table, so there are a lot of other plates and people in between her and them. She does arch a brow down at the end of the table, though, when there is talk of killing, though Katya helpfully asks all the pertinent questions.

While the lemur wasn't exactly wanting the piece of bread, it most certainly doesn't deny it as it takes hold of the bread and leans back into Garvin, eating away.

Angharad glances at Katya, eyebrows lifted in a look of long-suffering accord. Sometimes it's better not to know.

"I told you I'd fight him," Laurent grouses, a bit too loudly. A point of contention which may explain Laurent's exceptionally black mood. He's grinning though, as he turns to explain the situation to Angharad. "They're not unrelated, in fact. Garvin was bested in the tourney by the Lady Mormont — a bear of a woman if ever I've seen one. When he complained, not at his loss, but at his ill-treatment, Ser Daevon took offense." He actually looks amused as he adds, "Apparently he stormed in today, with a bundle of blades, and challenged my cousin to a duel for the honor of… The Mother, was it?" He calls out this question to Garvin. "Or the tourey itself? Some such vague, poetic notion."

Garvin manages, with great difficulty, to raise his left hand, palm outward. "It is a matter of honor," he says, not taking his eyes off the lemur still on his shoulder. "Ser Daevon challenged me, because he feels I insulted the officials at the freerider's event yesterday." His eyes strain to see all the way over to Laurent, but he can't manage it without moving his head. "That is, of course, his right, and he has granted me time to heal from the She-Bear's bite before we must fight. When I said I'd rather settle it at once through a champion, he told me that he would take my sword from me. That is why this battle shall be to the death, for that is the only way he will ever have my Pansythorn."

Katya pops her eyebrows upwards once at Angharad, giving her head a little 'who knows?' shake before looking between Laurent and Garvin at the explanations. At least they match, and she rubs the back of a knuckle along a brow as she considers. "Well, that is both better and yet worse than I might have guessed. Do you think if I say it sounds a foolish reason for a challenge he will appear to defend the nebulous honor of tourneys or the Mother from me as well?"

Angharad wrinkles up her nose. "Well, of course cousin Maera beat him — she pursues the sword like she has a grudge with all things living. It's not an art form to her." She sits, finally, shaking her head. "This is all very vague. And strange. Were you treated poorly? And was your complaint to the officials submitted with respect and humility?" And she sighs. Pansythorn. "Really? With a name like that, I somehow doubt it's an heirloom. It's worth dying over?"

"Are you suggesting the Maiden's Knight is foolish, my Lady?" Visenya's head turns sharply to regard Katya, and her eyes focus on the other woman for a few heartbeats before she rises, "Do have a lovely night, Lord Garvin. Tyrell's." She curtseys primly, "I do think it is time to take my leave."

Laurent seizes onto Katya's wry suggestion, grinning as he's taken by a rare spell of good humor. "Gods, I hope so," the Thorn agrees. "Then I'll fight on your behalf, Lady, and that will be an end to the matter." He reaches out to lay a hand on Angharad's then, perhaps meant to calm her? Perhaps just because he likes the feel of her. Oh my. "The smith's sagging balls, Harry. Of course the sword isn't worth dying over. It's the principle." He leans in close to whisper something to her then, chuckling once he's finished.

"Kat, that was unseemly!" Garvin says, his head turning toward her, despite still being a lemur-perch. "Ser Daevon is a true knight, and he made his challenge honorably." Letting out an exasperated sound, he turns toward Visenya. "I apologize to you, Lady, on behalf of my cousin. Please do not leave." The Angharad, he quickly explains, "That is not its true name, merely what I call it. It was a gift bestowed by my water-dancing master, his own Valyrian steel blade. It is more precious to me than my own life, I assure you."

Angharad rolls her eyes, dimples bracketing a wry smirk. "A positively dreadful reason for either of the above," she opines to her betrothed, sotto voce. She sighs at Garvin. "My lord, it seems to me, then, that you do not value your life highly enough. I don't care if it was forged by the Smith out of the Maiden's own flower, it is an object."

"I am sure he and his challenge are both true and honorable," Katya says, her tone calming, though without any particular alarm at the prospect of the lady's offense. "I simply believe young men left unchecked by steadier humours may get themselves into foolish situations, such as killing dear friends over vague complaints or poorly-named blades."

"This is all over some sword?" Kesha frowns, a little line forming between her brows and a pout on her lips. She looks up from her her meal after having completely lost track of the conversation. "It sounds as though more attention is being paid to supposed honor than wisdom." Oh wait, was that rude too? Oh well. She doesn't look particularly worried, nodding instead at Angharad and Katya as they seem to be of the same camp.

"It's only half over a sword," Laurent protests cheerfully. "The rest is over a congress of buffoons who gave Garvin offense, and thin skin when the point was raised." His dark eyes fairly sparkle with mirth as he looks to Angharad, apparently expecting her to laugh along with him.

"My brother is not simply a young man. He has achieved more than most Knights twenty years his senior. He is Blood of the Dragon, and he is a legend in the making." Visenya doesn't sit down, "And I am to sit here while my betrothed discusses dying by my brother's hands, and his family disparages my brother and twin, who I love more than myself? Ah, this is nearly unbearable."

"More than a simple object, Lady Harry," Garvin says, more relaxed now that both lemurs have scampered off to find other sources of entertainment. "Valyrian steel, invaluable in itself. But more than that, it is a symbol. When Master Tychos bestowed it upon me, he wasn't just giving me a sword. He was saying I am worthy to wield it. That I am a man. That is the assertion Ser Daevon challenges by asking for my blade. Like the officials at the tourney, he is saying I am not a man. If I must die to prove to him that I am, so be it."

Keyte glances back up, quietly watching the proceedings at the high table for a good, long, goodlong moment. She blinks. And again. The way her eyes dart about, she might even be contemplating escaping. (No doubt, contemplating escaping.) "Ah, but sweet cous, the lady did say her darling twin was fixing for to apologise, did she not? I should think it a thing resolved, aye?" She flashes an apologetic smile even, toward Visenya, as she reaches for her own twin's hand.

"I thought tourneys were supposed to let you men work out this propensity for frivolous violence constructively, between wars," Angharad poses to Laurent, propping her chin in her hand. "I still haven't heard enough about these buffoons to judge whether offense was given, in fact." Then, looking at Visenya with concern, "My lady, no one was disparaging your lord brother. Neither would we disparage our own dear cousin, your betrothed. But this situation does court ridiculous. They were friends who would have died for each other so few days past, we can count the hours."

"If we disparage your knightly brother, Lady Visenya then we disparage our own Lord Garvin as well, and surely we would do no such thing," Katya defends, a hand lifted in vague forestalling gesture. "It is only that the prospect of losing either over any but the most dire of quarrels seems a terrible waste. Surely this can be resolved in some other fashion, that does not rob Westeros of one of its finest young lords?" She spreads a hand to encompass Keyte's point in her own. And, when her head is turned far enoguh toward her sister none else can see, rolls her eyes.

"I don't know as it's entirely frivolous," Laurent protests gamely. "If my lord Garvin were offended, then that satisfies me that offense were well and truly given." He drums his fingers on the table as he stares at the young Lord for a moment, his gaze appraising, and then adds, "A man might say many things of my good cousin, but not that he were one to take offense easily. He suffers through japes and jests that a man ought not, in the name of keeping the peace. I think him unlikely to bristle at nothing."

"Oh well that makes it all better," Kesha notes, sounding a bit put out to her voice as Laurent and Gavin explain, letting out a soft sigh as she looks upwards at the ceiling. "Save us all from men," she mutters like a prayer. Men. Right, ladies? "Clearly, it is not working as it should," she says to Angharad with another sigh. "I cannot even imagine turning on someone who is a dear friend so quickly, but I suppose such a path of thought is beyond my ability to follow."

Garvin turns to Visenya then, frowning. "Lady, I again beg your forgiveness. Lady Katya still mourns her late husband, and grief moves her to say things she does not mean. She is a good and true lady. As for my Thorn, it is his sworn duty to protect me, and that is why he is so frustrated. He knows very well your lord brother's most deserved reputation, and he knows, as I do, that I cannot hope to win against him. He is torn between his own honor, which dictates he not interfere in a fair challenge, and his duty to see no harm befall me. Can you not see how frustrating this must be for him? For myself, I am…unsure how this all came about. I thought your brother to be my true friend, and yet today…." He drifts off, unable to continue.

"Yes, my brother does plan to apologize." Visenya says to Keyte with a nod. She looks back to Garvin, "As I said earlier my brother has had second thoughts in regards to this, and you act as if I haven't spoken at all. I suggest that you reflect on what you could have done to cause my brother to behave in such a manner. He does not wish to do you harm, but I do not believe he is the only one responsible for this. My brother does not act on impulse." She sucks in a breath, and slowly sits back down in her chair, "Might I have some wine to sip while I defend my brother seeing as he is not here?"

A page hurries to Visenya with a fresh goblet, while another pours wine from a flagon.

"He were fixing to apologise, cous," Keyte repeats, on the firm side of gentle by tone. There's some affection, at least, for poor, ribbon-shred Garvin in the midst of such an argument. She does only a reasonable job of hiding her smile for her sisters' reactions, sniffing sharply at Katya, in particular. "Lady Visenya, you are ever so gracious. I had the good fortune of your lady cousin's company yesterday, aye. Might it please you if I invite her up to table with us?"

Meanwhile, other pages are clearing the first course, while maids begin bringing in the second. The musicians are playing again, though softly.

"Considering that it seems Lord Garvin would rather languish in the romantic idea of dying than entertain Ser Daevon's apology," Angharad murmurs to Laurent, eyesbrows lifting, "I'm not sure that his humors are not out of balance, today. In such a state, one might take offence at things one would normally not."

"Frustrated," Laurent repeats, chiefly for Harry's benefit. "That's why I'm frustrated." His tone hints - nay, says! - that the reasons for his frustration are myriad, but he'll count that as one. He chuckles darkly into his goblet as he takes another deep drink of wine, slurping the last bit until he's empty too, then waving down the page who is stepping away from Visenya. He leans toward Angharad to listen to her, slouched bonelessly in his chair, and reaches out to pat her heavily on the leg as he acknowledges her point. "My lord cousin is a terrible romantic, it's true."

"Would that I had never entered that wretched, rigged competition," Garvin complains, gulping a goodly amount of wine. "Lady, your brother would have spilled his true friend's blood defending the honor of men who so obviously have none, and who had not been challenged to prove one way or another. Lady Mormont had no business entering the event in the first place, but that's her disgrace. My own came when the judges thought it a fine jest to pair her against Lord Pansy. Oh, how they snickered, pitting the mannish woman against the womanish man. And these are the men your brother seeks to defend? The men he wishes to injure or kill me for?" He shakes his head. "I think perhaps Lady Harry is correct. My humors are out of balance. I blame a deficiency of alcohol." He sits back then, swallowing the rest of his wine, then holding the goblet above his shoulder to be refilled.

"You are angry because you had to fight a woman?" Visenya's brow raises, "You must have been afraid to harm her, then?" She takes a swallow of her wine, "So you put down your arms, and the officials insulted you for this?"

All right. Now that's just not okay. Angharad looks up, frowning deeply. "Lord Garvin, I hope you know the love I bear for you, but I will thank you very much not to soak my cousin Maera's name in the wine of your sour grapes." A cutting emphasis on 'wine' unscores the double-entendre. "If you speak of the competition for freeriders, Lady Maera qualifies as much as most. Women fight in the north — martial prowess is far from a disgrace. Your humors are indeed out of balance to speak so."

Out of the line of fire for the moment, Katya settles back in her seat, reclining towards her twin sisters as she holds out her goblet for a refill. The initial pour is apparently not sufficient, as she continues holding out the cup until it is nearly full. Then she drinks, and, to her sisters, sighs through her nose. She speaks very softly, for their ears alone, her tone drier than the plains of Dorne despite that she's just wet her throat: "I am so pleased we can all at least agree that of all of this, women fighting is the part most monstrously disgraceful and ridiculous."

"And this is not the North!" Garvin suddenly shouts, face reddening. "I'm sure that I would respect the traditions followed up there, were I to find myself in the North. Is it really so much to ask the same measure of respect be shown here in the South?" He again guzzles down his wine, then angrily waves the goblet until it is refilled. "Do you see me trying to plant daffodils and chrysanthemums on the walls of Winterfell?"

Just to add to the divisive dinner conversation, Keyte reponds to her older sister, "Lord Kevyn didn't fight her, either." The presumed reason why follows: "She sheathed her sword to meet him in the field." As a maid takes her plate, she issues a few quiet instructions to go invite the Lady Igdannha up from her place at the Tully table.

Eonn is shown in, and to the lowest table. He has combed his hair again, an woven fresh flowers (this time, pink sea-thrift) into his beard and hair. But he's still in the same shabby black piecemeal armour. Smallfolk. No doubt drawn by the free food.

"My namesake fought next to her brother-husband Aegon the First while he conquered the the Seven Kingdoms." Visenya observes cooly, "Obviously that is a disgrace." That said, she picks up her cup and takes a hearty swallow.

"It floors me, Lord Garvin, that you of all people would conflate unconvential with disgraceful. When you yourself suffer so much from that same fallacy of logic in others." Agnharad's tone is very precisely modulated, her words clipped.

"I'm sure that," Laurent begins, his hand still resting on Angharad as he leans close to speak to her on Garvin's behalf. But the sudden outburst from the young Tyrell Lord stops his short, and his eyes widen, head turning slowly until Garvin is in his gaze. And then it's his turn to stand, pushing his chair out. Slow and controlled, the tall Tyrell knight comes to his feet, and offers the high table a shallow bow. "Perhaps it is time I withdrew," he says through clenched teeth. "I find I have difficulty holding myself to shouting, once my humors are out of balance."

Being farther down the table keeps one out of the line of fire pretty well, it seems. Kesha nibbles at her meal and sips at her wine and watches that argument with an expression that shifts between strained patience and watching dinner theater depending on what is being said in the moment. She does give Katya an honestly sympathetic look for her quiet, dry words before she is startled by the shouting. "My word. Is that really necessary?"

Eonn looks over to the high table for a moment, and then proceeds to pretend not to notice all the tension. There is, after all, food.

Garvin pushes himself from the chair, trying to keep the pain from his face and only partially succeeding. "No, Cousin, it is I who shall withdraw. Ladies, my apologies for my unseemly outburst. It seems clear to me now that the maester's leeches failed to extract all the poisoned blood from me this afternoon." As he moves behind Angharad's chair, he can't help but say, "If I were to conduct my unconventional activities in the middle of the tourney grounds, in front of the entire city, I would call that disgraceful indeed. Good evening, everyone." His squire, who has been trying hard to figure a way to slip behind a tapestry without drawing any attention to himself, has no choice but to hurry forward and offer Garvin his arm.

Garvin adds to Visenya, "Dragons have conventions all their own, and it is a foolish man who dares to disparage them."

"Sheathed her sword," repeats Keyte, with a shake of her head. "Insult aside, he were second of the freeriders. If only she'd met him for proper sporting, aye?" She is clearly talking up the hero-squire's abilities, holding a conversation entirely her own down this end of the table. "Katya? Might you pass the salt?"

The outburst draws Katya's glance as well, though Angharad's words beforehand were noted as well, and she casts a glance toward Locke and Targaryen before turning back to her sisters. "That was rude of her," she agrees with Keyte, "But I'm pleased to hear he showed so well. Perhaps Viggo has bothered to teach him a thing or two after all." She watches Garvin's exit and parting words with a subtle flex in her jaw and faint purse of her lips as she collects the salt and hands it towards Keyte.

Visenya rises, "I am sure my brother will come to see you, Lord Garvin, and make amends with you. Alas, I find myself quite drained. I hope you mend soon, beloved." The beloved is said casually, a title without meaning. "Do excuse me, everyone. Have a lovely night."

"If the situation were so disgraceful, you should have refused to fight," opines Angharad, sharply. "The man who cries foul only when he's beaten is an ass. I hope the Maesters get that out of you in the next leeching." She stands. "Forgive me," she says to Laurent and the Tyrell ladies, also apprently with the intention of departing.

"Good evening," Kesha says to the departing. "Then Lord Kevyn would be in a sorry state, as well, likely, from the sound of things. Even though that was rather insulting," she points out to her twins sister with a shake of her head. "Assuming he isn't also greatly alarmed by any besmirching of his honorable manhood and is not off dueling in search of it again."

Laurent is already standing, so has no need to rise to see everyone off. It's all a confusing mess, so his grunt might be agreement with someone, or dismissal, or farewell, or any number of other things. He looks from person to person to person, then in an uncharacteristically well-mannered gesture, turns to offer Angharad his arm. "I'll see you out," he says, glancing her way. He's well and truly angry now, though he's fighting it back. The offer sounds more like a question.

Accepting the salt, Keyte wonders in a hush to Katya, "Which of them is leaving?" Is it Laurent, is it Garvin? Both? "Oh." Or Visenya, as it happens. And Angharad? "Be well, ladies," she calls, stubbornly cheerful in address to both Targaryen and Locke. "Like as not," she turns back to agree with her twin. "Oh, hmm. I should hope he's not so easily ruffled, but I couldn't say for his sensibilities or his sense." She looks mildly worried, now.

Angharad inclines her head to Laurent and takes his arm. She casts a quick, tight-lipped smile at the Targaryen ladies, then allows herself to be shown the door. Such a lovely door, really.

Laurent makes his way to the door without further comment, though he does nod dutifully to the trio of Tyrell ladies as he passes. His pace is brisk, and his manner brusque, as he pushes through the small crowd between him and the door with Angharad on his arm. Not even the men-at-arms posted at the exit get a farewell, and he snatches the door out of the hands of a slow-moving page to throw it wide himself before he passes from the great hall.

Visenya will follow Laurent and Angharad out, although her destination is surely different.

"Well, this has been an unexpected evening," Katya says, turning her wine goblet between her fingers as half the table takes its leave. She looks back to her sisters and nods, "Yes, well done with Lord Kevyn, indeed." She sort of stopped listening for a minute, sorry. Kevyn's dreamy blah blah. "I do hope you two won't be fighting over him."

Now that the head table is devoid of gentlemen, Igdahn excuses herself gingerly from her table and keeps her eyes on the floor, hands folded in front of her as she proceeds quietly up the side of the room, finally coming to present herself to her newest girlfriend, Keyte. "It is quite an occasion, my Lady," she tells said Keyte, with a flash of a smile from below the bottom of the lacy veil she's donned for dining, short, so as to not get in the way of consumption, but still covering the topmost of her face.

Kesha makes a small noise of agreement and sips at her wine as if a good portion of the table had not just exited after a spat. She side-eyes her sister with the talk of Kevyn and then smiles all-to-sweetly. "Oh, now Katya…you know very well that you are the fighter among us." When Igdahn appears, she politely greets with a, "Good evening."

"And beside," Keyte chirps smugly on the heels of Kesha's answer, as she salts her food sparingly. "It were my favor he asked for. Ah, lady Igdannha! So sweet of you to join us. We sat together yesterday," she explains for the others' benefit. "These are my lady sisters, Kesha, and Katya."

Eonn finishes his plateload of food and moves to slip out, casting a little glance at the nobles. Definitely not his place.

Katya smiles politely at the unfamiliar lady's arrival, and then at Kesha, saying, "That sort of fight is not for me. I should hope you would not come to fists or blades even if you did find yourselves rivals." It's clearly not a thing she has any real fear of happening. She finishes her wine and says, "I think I will step out as well, I am sure you two can look after each other. Lady Igdannha, good evening."

Igdahn lowers herself into a sweet, girlish curtsey when she's introduced. "Lady Katya, Lady Kesha, so good to meet the both of you. Good eve, my Lady Katya," she appends to her statement, "I hope rest finds you well when you do rest." And, having thus spoken, she rises from her little curtsey once more. "Surely you are not planning a tourney of your own, Lady Keyte?" she asks with a little teasing edge to her voice, riffing off of Katya's comment on rivalry and yesterday's kerfuffle in re: ladies in combat.

"Mhm," Kesha murmurs for the explanation, as though she knew the answer all along. "Somehow I doubt that will be a position we find ourselves in," she says with a short laugh, smiling as if there is some great joke to be had. Rivals, indeed. "Are you sure? Are you really? If anything happens to us I do not think the manse can survive any more drama," she teases. Like anything is really likely to happen.

"And the blame shall fall to you, Katya," adds Keyte, falling into the pattern of building on her twin's wit. "Mother's grace, my lady, but no," she responds to Igdannha's teasing, unworried by the gentle jibe. "No need to court scandal, aye? The menfolk seem to be doing an entirely admirable job of such, without my help. I do hope your sweet lady cous wasn't too far offended."

"Indeed it can't," Katya agrees, of the house's capacity for dramatics, "So it is well you two are so very well behaved. And have so many guards, should you somehow manage to need them." She touches a hand to each twin's shoulder as she passes, flashing them a quick, warm grin. "Be good. I will see you in the morning."

"Did she take offense?" Igdahn answers the implied question with a direct one. Either she was taking care not to eavesdrop on the madness at the main table or is too polite to gossip about it. "I note she did leave, but perhaps she was merely tired. It goes about in our family to be frail of constitution, and sometimes I can't make it to the end of supper, either," she smiles.

"So very well behaved," Kesha deadpans, mouth set in a line before one corner quirks in a smile in time with a slight lift of one brow. "Bye, bye." Maybe they look well-behaved compared to all the hullabaloo others keep stirring up. "Oh, do not help the menfolk court any more scandal," she turns to Ketye, mock-pleading. "They are quite ridiculous all on their own." As to Igdahn, she smiles, and innocently says, "No offense was taken, I am sure. She must have gone to find someone to push off a roof, likely."

Keyte turns a lovely shade of pink at that last from her twin, hands pressing flat against the tabletop for a long moment. "Kesha!" The wide-eyed look of pleading mirrored back to the lady might just be sincere. "Oh, not Katya, the lady Visenya. Though perhaps our lady Igdannha is correct, and she were simply tired?"

Igdahn is a little taken aback, herself, but finally just issues forth a nervous titter of laughter. "Heavens," she concludes simply. "I do not know her mind, but I should doubt that she's come down to going a-murdering," she offers up in as jestful a voice as will mesh with the timbre of the conversation. "It really is a lovely supper, though, and she'll be sad to have missed the end of it, I'm sure. What were those little cratures that were running about up here earlier?"

"Yes?" Kesha asks her sister with wide, innocent eyes. But she does wave a hand at Igdahn. "Of course, of course. I am certain no one is going a-murdering. Blame the menfolk for putting such a though in my head, with their duels over slights, both imaginary and real, willing to die over them and their weaponry." When in doubt: Blame the men.

Keyte narrows her eyes in squint at her sister. Innocent? She's not fooled. However, they're in such genteel company, and Igdahn is asking after the lemurs. "Some beast or other from the Summer Isles, my lady. See how they clambered all upon the poor Lord Garvin, without a thought to his injuries!" No wonder the Tyrell lord were so out of sorts. "Duels, indeed," she quips back at Kesha. "What nonsense."

"Gentlemen are rather fond of their martial prowess," Igdahn will allow, "But it does not help that many a maid encourage them by fawning over those who are utmost in same," she lends a thoughtful counter-argument to her own statement. "Did they climb upon the Lord? Good heavens."

Completely innocent. You should believe your sister, Keyte. "Yes, those…squirrel-people? Whatever they were called. It was all good fun until they began climbing all over." Kesha wiggles her fingers in what is supposed to be a gesture to mean 'scampering little climbing creatures' or something. "The gentlemen are perhaps overly fond of their martial prowess. It is good to have pride in your accomplishments, but they really do take it to extremes." She slides a look over at Keyte. "Do you hear that? No fawning over Lord Kevyn and encouraging him."

"They seem like they'd be dirty things," speaks Keyte on the subject of the lemurs. She affects a revolted look for the scamper-fingers gesture of her sister's, much as one might find many a crawling thing uncomfortable. "I don't fawn!" The squeak in her voice is perhaps not aided by thoughts of the creepy Summer Isles creatures. "It were him committing all acts of fawning, I say. All I did were oblige the lord with my dolphin-luck! One bit me," she provides most helpfully for Igdahn. As though the story needs telling again.

"Yes, I seem to remember you saying something about that," Igdahn smiles at Keyte, leaning close to her to offer her a subtle little snug. "I should return to my table before I am missed for the next course. But I will write to you and we can find time to meet in the garden, or go on a walk. That would be great fun, wouldn't it?"

"So you say," Kesha says with a slight pout to her bottom lip, looking at Keyte with doubt at to her fawning. "This is what happens when I leave you alone. You develop a luck dolphin bite and start fawning over squires. I am sure no one wants to hear about that dolphin anymore." She gestures as if to say 'See? Igdahn has already heard about it'. "Of course. Enjoy the rest of your meal."

"Oh, of course, lady!" Keyte is as bright in farewell as in greeting. "I look forward to it." As for Kesha's doubt, she weathers that pouty look with one of her very own, albeit far more peevy. "I wasn't fawning," insists Keyte with a harrumphing, reaching for her goblet. "But he did say I am the lovliest lady he knows." There is perhaps a minor detail here that she's leaving out, given the quick wrinkle of her nose before she drinks.

Igdahn withdraws delicately, leaving the sisters to talk of the Squire &c.

"Oh?" Kesha murmurs, a slow, sly smile growing on her features. She turns to look at Keyte, smile growing wider with mischief. "The loveliest lady, did he say? Perhaps I should go thank him for the compliment, too." She just smiiiiiles at her twin with a mirror image of her own face and an obnoxious flutter of lashes.

Keyte's jaw slacks open in horror, and she gasps. "Don't you dare!" Her grip on her goblet tightens as she exclaims, her chinks tinting furious red. "I should spill my tea upon every painting you ever took a brush to, Kesha Tyrell!"

Keyte really should not let herself be goaded so. Even if she has the best reactions. "Dare? Oh, I do love a good dare. I didn't realize thanking someone for a compliment was such a feat…" Kesha teases her twin terribly, and then changes tracks, feigning a sudden epiphany. "I did not realize you had claimed him as your own. When should I expect the betrothal announcement?"

Keyte muffles a squeal behind very, very tightly-closed lips and tightly-grit teeth. Compared to the drama at the high table earlier, this is pittance — still. Delightful pittance for her twin, obviously. "It's not a dare! Oh! Me! Oh, my! Kesha Tyrell, he is but a squire, you are so unseemly." Abandoning her goblet to the tabletop, Keyte folds her arms. (Her reactions really are the best.)

It is a pittance, but things had gotten a little boring, so can you blame her? (Yes, you probably can.) Keshe sits primly in her chair, looking like a proper lady except for the slightly wicked look in her eyes, at odds with a sweet smile. It's the sweet smiles that are really the most dangerous. She lets her twin stew a moment before breaking composure to laugh and wave with a dismissive gesture. "Oh do calm down. You know very well I have no interest in the squire."

Keyte simmers with frustration, part guilty, part not, as Kesha continues to needle. That smile. Ugh! "You are the worst," she declares, all affection and lopsided smiles as her twin bends and breaks. There is some legitimate concern written in her expression, though, and she wonders in earnest, "You don't think he might have taken it for… you know." Something entirely more serious?

"You really ought to know better than to fall for that by now, you know. When have I ever-" Kesha shakes her head, but her smile is brighter with the sort of genuineness that's actually lovely, as opposed to some lever of overly-sweet or obnoxious. She considers her sister's concern seriously for a moment. "It was just a tourney favor, no? Only if he is really very silly will he take such a thing seriously." After a moment she adds. "Although the silliness of men has been on full display this evening." Then she add-adds, "Unless you didn't tell me something."

"Every time," giggles Keyte, amused at her own folly. "You are just too good!" She sighs, though, shoulders heaving as though with great weight. "Just a tourney favor," she confirms, with a very brisk series of nods. "But, I mean… I don't… I couldn't put my finger on it," she admits, face all a-wry. "Men are such odd creatures. The lord Kevyn is… I could almost swear he tumbled from that rowboat on purpose. I think I am addled from too much wine, mhm."

"You are terribly gullible. Of all people you really should know better." Kesha does preen a little that her fibbing is apparently that good, though. She takes a sip of her wine, looking over the edge of the goblet at her twin. She nods, setting it down again. Good. Just a favor. "Well I am hardly an expert on men," she reminds, a touch dryly. "Though I agree they can be odd creatures. Why would he tumble from the rowboat on purpose? He looked foolish after the rescue."

"Nay," Keyte disagrees, "He looked…" Oh, Gods. She has a faraway look as her eyes slip from her twin's face, but thankfully she never finishes that sentence. The older of the twins even clears her throat as she crashed back to earth, unfolding her arms to collect her own goblet once more. "Well. Anyway. Where do you suppose Katya escaped to? Somewhere exciting, no doubt."

Thankfully. Kesha merely rolls her eyes. "To think I am related to you," she says on a long-suffering sigh. The things she has to put up with. "Stop getting flustered over a drowned puppy." Honestly, now. At least the new topic of conversation is more promising. "She did rather abandon us, didn't she? Hm. Probably something disreputable, just to in contrast to the opinions of the evening, likely." Not that the twins can really throw stones in their glass house.

"I wasn't fawning," Keyte harks back to previous accusations to defend. "Do you think there will be dancing here, after the food? I was so hoping for dancing. I wonder if Garvin's still so terribly upset that he can't see reason. I bet Katya's found somewhere rather more adventurous than this hall, to finish her eve."

"Then stop staring dreamily off into space." Deny that, Keyte. Her twin looks around, considering the hall. "I assume that any plans made previous to, mm, disagreements will still stand. It seems likely there would be dancing to go with musical entertainment." Kesha shakes her head, not having an answer to Garvin's ability to reason, but she looks doubtful. "She has certainly found somewhere more adventurous to be than here. That is her way."

"I wasn't!" Keyte will insist until she's blue in the face, it seems. But there are more courses to be had, and dancing after that. Boy, is that a lot of insisting.

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